


Belly God

by north2207



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Force-Feeding, Gore, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Inflation, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/north2207/pseuds/north2207
Summary: In ancient Egypt the people prayed to the God Hapi for good floods and fertility. But lost to time is Hapi's earthbound vessel, the chosen Belly God. Selected from the lesser of three princes, the boy is fattened up to become the people's engorged God. But little does this boy know his true fate is not to be fat forever, but to be fattened.





	

The Fourth Dynasty of ancient Egypt was the first true golden age of civilization, at a time when the Human race’s golden ages could be counted on one hand. It was a time of peace and prosperity as where Egyptian dominance was unchallenged and rightfully deserved. For they had built the first great and last cities, sustained by the cold and nurturing waters of the Nile river. 

But how the rulers of the Fourth Dynasty achieved greatest is lost to time. Though many attribute it to wise and competent rulers bring order to the chaotic lands of the desert, it was in fact all attributed to a ritual that since has been lost to time. No scrap of evidence remains, through disaster, calamity or jealous hands it has been reduced to the dusts of time. 

No one remembers the Cult of Hapi and their worship of the aforementioned god, the god of the Nile. No one will ever remember their most celebrated ritual ensured bountiful greatness for all of Egypt, the Liberation of the Belly God. 

Prince Rahotep however would remember. He would remember the day the priest of the Hapi Cult came to the throne room, bowing profusely to his father, the Pharaoh Sneferu. He was only a boy, no more than six or seven harvests old and stood in the front row with the other nobles, since his mother was not the Pharaoh’s first wife but one of the concubines he had taken among his harem with some semblance of royal blood. As such he didn’t rate high enough in the court’s eyes to stand beside the royal throne like his brothers Prince Nefemaat and Prince Ranefer.

“Your highest,” the High Priest Djeda declared as he bowed deeply before his ruler, “the Cult of Hapi has come before you today as it has been five harvests since the last Liberation of the Belly God. It is time to select a new vessel of worship and growth.”

The court was a buzz with whispers of excitement. The Belly God was the most venerated being in the capital city of Memphis, behind the Pharaoh himself of course. Rahotep could remember that much, since the Cult of Hapi forbid any written records of their earthbound worships to be recorded. Only the words of the High Priest and those who remember the last ritual five harvests previous could provide much information. 

But all knew the rule, the Belly God was chosen only from royal blood. Normally that was without issue, since the Pharaoh’s children by his many concubines ensured there was always a spare royal laying around for selection. 

But Rahotep’s father had once special curse, a penchant for imbuing his many female attendants with daughters. And the one rule of the ritual that Rahotep could recall was that the Belly God must be from among the royal princes. 

From among himself and his brothers. 

His father realized the same as well, as Rahotep suddenly found the man staring down at him from his great throne. 

“Prince Rahotep,” he beckoned and the young Prince, never one to disobey his father, stepped forward. “You are my only son of my second wife. As your brothers, sons of my first wife, are destined to rule one day after my passing into the hands of Osiris, you alone are left. I present you, son of my second wife, to the Priest Djeda as my gift to his cult. Does Priest Djeda accept the throne’s offer?”

The question normally wouldn’t be heard from a man like his father, who’s words were law and actions feared. But the grin on the Djeda‘s face clearly showed the question has pleased him.

“We humbly accept this young boy as your offering,” Djeda said with a great bow, though Rahotep could not see his leering eyes below his brows. “He will be our finest Belly God to the great Hapi. May many great floods and harvest bless this kingdom while he is under our stewardship.”

And that was when Rahotep was ushered by the Djeda‘s attendants out of the Court. It would be the last time he would stand before his father and brothers for a long time. It would be the last time he ever stood beside his mother. 

He would never stand with the court nobles again. He had been elevated to a status far beyond them and the looks of fascinated approval meant they believed he deserved the honour. 

Rahotep was paraded through the streets of Memphis, the word had spread as the Priests had walked to the palace and they’d appeared in droves to scream joy and astonishment at the coronation of their generation’s newest Belly God.

It would be years before he was to walk these streets again, as they approached the Temple of Hapi. It was situated on the edge of the Nile, the river itself actually flowed through the courtyards. 

It was a beautiful place, the place that would be his unknowing prison for the next few years of his life. 

The priests gathered around their new god, faces twisted in glee and pleasure, a sea of white robes eagerly staring at their leigh. 

“You are no longer Prince Rahotep,” Djeda announced with a wave over the crowds. “You are now the Rahotep, the Belly God, the earthbound vessel of the God of the Nile, Hapi.”

The priests sang and laughed, toasting goblets of wine into the air and dancing in writhing circles around the perplexed boy. He was too young to know this night of drunken debauchery was celebration and the rejuvenation of their temple, of their way of life. 

Rahotep the Belly God was to breath them life into their lives which had been quiet yet barren these last five harvests.

“Now the feast!” Djeda rejoiced, throwing his hands wide as the room flooded with servants, carrying vast offerings of food donated by the rejoicing masses of Memphis. 

The largest dish was placed before the youngster, Rahotep looked at it with huge eyes, confused and bewildered by its greatness.

“Eat!” Djeda called out, his face filled with glee and his voice thick from the wine. “Eat your fill my boy, for every meal after tonight will only be grander!”

And Rahotep did what the man said, slowly tearing piece of meat from the bone with his teeth.

“Eat great Belly God!” Djeda shouted again, rubbing the boy back. “Eat yourself fat for that is your life now! To be the biggest bellied god ever!”

And the meat was so good, better than anything he had eaten even in the palace. It fell off the bone and almost dissolved on his tongue. Rahotep may not have eaten since the morning meals but still he found he’d finished the leg of meat in no time. 

Only to have another placed before him, and then another. 

Yet as Rahotep, Belly God newly crowned, another selection had been completed much earlier in the day.

Inkaef was only slightly older then Rahotep, seven or eight harvests old, but already he had distinguished himself among the priesthood’s guard initiates. With long fingers and limbs that moved like a whip cracking, his sword handling had already caught the eye of High Priest Djeda.

The Priest’s eyes now locked with Inkaef as he stood off on the far side of the chamber, looking down with curiosity at the newly anointed Belly God. Among the drunk and reveling priests he was the only other person remotely his age, the only person in this entire temple like him since he’d been separated from the other guard initiates. 

But the hard look from Djeda and a shake of a head forced Inkaef back, behind the columns and out of sight. The High Priest instantly regained his enchanting smile, spinning back to Rahotep.

“Eat my big bellied boy!” he called and danced. “Tonight is the first of the rest of your life!”

And so it was, for the feasts continued for days and weeks and finally years. 

As he aged Rahotep became a man of strong features, square chin from his mother’s side, large biceps from his father. Their features had mixed in some places, with sharp cheekbones and small delicate ears. The priests kept his head mostly shaved, only a knotted ponytail atop his crown. 

They anointed him daily with fine oils and jewellery, giving his skin a warm sheen and his body mostly shaved, only his eyebrows thinly shaped were all that remained on his body.

But his belly was his greatest feature, gravid from his daily stuffing and feasts.

At nearly adulthood it clearly went before him everywhere, sitting on his throne it occupied his lap, firm with fat and muscles that both his vitality and ritual workouts had gifted him.

It was all to keep him busy, fat, happy and distracted. 

Easy for the priests to reap the rewards of his offerings, to indulge in only the finest harvests from even the poorest farmers. 

Few would notice with the Belly God before them that the priests were all stout if not round men, far most nourished then even most of the court nobles save the royal family. For whatever their earthbound god did not eat was left for their mouths to enjoy. 

As was common throughout the days, the peasants of the kingdom regularly brought him offerings to Temple of Hapi, in hope of a better harvest and his blessings of their family’s fertility. Before the lavish throne he was seated on they would lay their offerings of food and wine and trinkets before his feet, trying to keep their eyes on the floor. 

They were forbidden to touch him, to even look upon his face. For if they did they were warned they’d be looking upon the face of a god and that to do so would bound them to the service of the Cult forever. 

Yet from their spot they could never hope to lay their eyes upon his face, for his great belly obscured all. The priests would gather the offerings and present them to their vessel. 

“Great Belly God,” Djeda or one of his many attendants would declare, tapping the front of Rahotep’s great belly with his staff. “Do you have room in your bountiful gourd for these tasty morsels?”

Rahotep never said no, he was an earthbound god and these commoners loved him. He could not disappoint no matter how bloated and full he felt. He would nod slowly and attendants would rush forward, scooping up the foods and delivering it to his mouth. 

Wines flowed down his gullet, grapes and berries of unblemished quality fell past his teeth, meat of the tastiest red were swallowed. 

“Hmmm” Rahotep would moan as other attendants would massage his great belly, ensuring all the other offerings he had been consuming since sunup were moved aside for these. “Such delicacies you give me.”

His words sent gasps of approval from the peasants, who gleefully retreated before the great mound of a man in gushing whispers. 

Neither the fleeing happy peasants or their bulging worship ever noticed that almost half their food ever made it to Rahotep’s mouth. Instead it was split off and brought to the kitchens and holds of the Cult’s priests, who would greedily devour or sell it later for the Cult’s enjoyment. 

When not on display Rahotep would wander the high gardens that overlooked the city streets. He was forbidden to walk among the people, for fear any unsupervised interaction with the common folk would shatter his ignorant bliss. He never complained though, given the immensity of his belly he could not go far before his breath escaped him. 

On one day in particular he had made it farther then he usually did, beyond the open balcony over the streets where he was normally on display for the public. Instead he was in towards the interior courtyards, trying to get some freedom from the crowds who roared with glee at his very shadow.

Normally these areas were empty at high noon, the priests usually hide themselves at this hour to avoid the hot glare of the sun and the throbbing of post-celebration feasts. 

“Your highest,” one of his constant attendants asked as they wandered farther from their usual paths. “We should return to the throne room. The afternoon offerings are going to be starting soon and the High Priest will want you there to engorge before the crowds.”

“I will return soon,” Rahotep told the man, admitting that he was starting to reach the limit of his stamina. “But I wish to just wander a little longer.”

“As you wish,” the attendant bowed and followed his god as he moved onward. 

Rahotep really didn’t know where he was going, but he kept hearing sounds ahead, sounds he had always heard in the distance from his room deep in the temple complex.

He found it in the lower training pens. 

The man seemed to dance and spin, the air was water and he swam through it like a fish. A knife in one hand, the other tided behind his back, he danced around the four men facing him and in no time flat had defeated, disabled and with powerful finesse disrobed his foes of their armour, never leaving a cut on the skin. 

“Who is that?” Rahotep asked, looking down on the scene with approval and fascination. 

“Inkaef,” he spun about as the High Priest Djeda was suddenly beside him. “The Liberator.”

“Who?” Rahotep was confused and fascinated, leaning over the balcony railing as much as his fat belly would allow. 

“Here he comes my lord,” Djeda gestured as Inkaef approached from below, Rahotep tried to keep his composure at the sheen of sweat covering the man’s barely clothed body.

“Your highest,” Inkaef bowed deeply. “I am humbled to meet our great Belly God.”

“It is I who is honoured,” Rahotep was bewildered but enchanted by this powerful man. “Have I seen you before.”

“Most improbable,” Inkaef intoned, though Rahotep never knew the pain or the longing in that voice. “But as your Liberator I will be here for you. I am the instrument.”

“From this day, Inkaef will be your sole attendant,” Djeda declared.

Rahotep could feel a burst of glee in his chest at the idea of being attended to by this virile specimen of a man. 

Little did he know that since the beginning young Inkaef had been trained in the art of knife wielding and care of his blessed vessel. To keep Inkaef driven to do his duty, he was driven by the other priests to sacrifice part of his daily meals in service of Rahotep’s belly. 

It was all for given the honour of being selected as the Liberator to the Belly God.

Inkaef took a step forward and placed a hand on apex of Rahotep’s mighty belly.

“Soon you will be ready for your people my god Prince,” Inkaef’s hands danced with delicate but firm care over his belly. “Until them I am at your service.”

For the continued years Inkaef grew with the Prince, enjoying the presence of his company, serving him, caring for his belly, and being selected for a prestigious sacred task, yet he has a bit of resentment as he has to starve for it.

This helped to grow and spread his concept of suffering and sacrifice, of giving to the Belly God. His duty of caring for this vessel of greatness, for being the Liberator.

Rahotep continued to grow into an impressive, strong bellied man over the years with Inkaef at his side, knifes adoring his belt and what little else he wore. As he strolled the people below look at him with admiration, that massive belly that’s a product of their hard work, so beautiful, round and tight, glistening in the setting sun. 

The priests, the people, even the mighty Pharaoh from a distance keep their eye on his belly. The larger he grew it the greater the reward their work would be.

A large ripe fruit, almost ready for harvest.

“They love you,” Inkaef stroked his bloated belly with the finest of oils as Rahotep relaxed on his throne. “Take all their love into this mighty gut and grow it larger and larger.”

“I want to be bigger,” Rahotep did, both to please his people and most of all to please Inkaef. “I’ll be as big as the Gods will allow.”

“Then grow,” Inkaef brought a goblet to the Prince’s lips and Rahotep drank deeply, the warm wine flowing filling him, expanding him, making him larger by the-

A sudden pain in his belly made Rahotep stop, gasping as he felt a rumble shake his immensity.

The room had gone silent, all eyes had suddenly turned towards the throne, Rahotep for once was confused and worried as all attention had fallen on him. 

“Ripe,” the sound of the voice was otherwise quiet but in the room of silence it was like a roar. “He is ripe!” 

The room erupted in cheers, the crowds of priests and peasants screamed. 

“Finally my lord,” Inkaef grinned widely as his hand stroked Rahotep’s vastness. “You are ready to be liberated and become a god unbound.”

Rahotep was confused but when his eyes turned downward he saw for the first time what his body had become. His belly was massive, tight and bloated beyond anything humanly possible. Only years of feedings had allowed it to grow this large.

But he had little time to consider it as with a wave of Djeda’s arms attendants appeared carrying great barrels of beer and wine. 

“Drink my prince,” the High Priest announced. “Drink as we prepare the ceremony! The Ceremony of Liberation!”

It was time, finally time after all these years for Rahotep to finally serve his purpose, to become a god unbound and walk among the great ethereal rulers of this mortal world.

And Rahotep drank, drank more than he had ever done before. 

One barrel, another, four, six. He never knew he could do it but slowly as the day turned to night and the sun rose he finished barrel after barrel.

Years of training his stomach had allowed it to be engorged to this size, to grow into a throbbing bubble.

Between his furious drinking the priests filled his mouths with the greatest of foods, breads and berries and meats that even they thought too fine for their tongues to taste. And between these their most powerful potions. 

Rahotep’s mind clouded as the potions robbed him of reasoning and pain, numbed him from the world and made him warm and hungry for more.

By the time the crowds had begun to gather Prince Rahotep was well fed, bloated full stretched tight and round like never before.

All the while Inkaef rubbed his growing belly with the most sacred of oils, something reserved for this very night, forbidden for all to even smell save the Liberator who was the only soul meant to apply it.

Outside the crowds were gathering. 

The peasants, the workers, the farmers, the nobles who made all these offerings and are now desperately waiting for the outcome. 

At high noon Rahotep had drunk more than he had in his entire life. He walked the empty throne room, trying to work off some of the pain of being filled far beyond what should be possible. His belly no longer hangs, instead its tight and nearly throbbing, as his body has to fight hard to get blood around the massiveness of his equator.

“Your highness,” Djeda said as he watched his charge of years wander the room. “You are ready. Your people are waiting to receive your blessing.”

Rahotep has rose with difficulty, belly out and protruding. The beer he been filled with still left him full and tight but his greedy body had begun to consume what it could.

He walked to the edge of the temple balcony, overlooking the courtyard below and presented his body before the hordes. The people cheer more and rushed forward like hungry crocodiles with gaping mouths

“I am ready to become their god,” Rahotep intoned deeply as the warm sun gleamed on his gigantic gourd.

The people outside are getting anxious, hungry and cheering as the sun rises higher and the ceremony years in the making is nearly upon them. 

The guards tried to keep them back but the anticipation has left them riled, desperate, wanting the rewards for their sacrifice of their meagre offerings. 

Inkaef the Liberator approaches, carrying his ceremonial dagger in his hands like the precious gem it was. Upon seeing the metal glinting in the sunlight, the roar of the crowd becomes deafening. 

Rahotep, lost in his drunken haze, was excited that the crowds loved him so.

He barely even noticed Inkaef approach his side.

They get even more anxious.

Cheering and drooling excitably.

He raised his arms with Djeda standing behind him, grasping the bulging sides of his belly.

“I'll support you my Prince,” the High Priest grinned widely, though sadly at his charge. “I'll help you hold up your immense belly pot which is begging to be released.”

His stomach rose into full view, sweat dripping through the luminous oil adorning it.

“Just keeps your arms raised,” Djeda called out so the roiling crowds could hear. “Cheer at your subjects, they have come from a far to honour you.”

The Liberator stood to his side, knife in hand. He placed it on Rahotep’s navel and the cheering went mad. 

“We’ve given you plenty of beer and potions,” Inkaef said in a husky voice. “You won't feel much… as the pressure was released.”

“Alright,” Rahotep had no idea what Inkaef meant but the cheering carried him onward, the beer keeping him sated, the potions numbing him.

The knife plunged into his navel, separating the skin like cobwebs as it went in with a cheer from the crowd and a gasp of confusion from Rahotep.

“What,” he gasped, “what have you done… I am a god… you’ve popped me…”

Djeda nods and when Inkaef pulls the knife back the man’s belly erupts like a geyser. The High Priest squeezes as hard as his pudgy arms will allow, forcing the juices inside Rahotep to burst free from their highly pressurized confines. 

Blood… beer… morsels of food… white creamy fat pours from his spilt apex.

It poured down on the crowd below who rushed forward, disregard even the powerful guards who had tried to keep them back. They opened their mouths, hoping and most happily rewarded to taste the delicious juice of their god. 

Djeda kept squeezing Rahotep, squeezing his belly to force more of the fluid out to for maximum extraction. The crowd below are having a breath-taking time bathing and drinking the belly juice. Couples throw their hands into the air and mouths wide to feel every ounce of their liquefied god pour down on them.

All the while Rahotep stands in confused horror. 

They’d popped him, like the sweetest berries. 

For the first time in his life he felt two things, the singing release of a terrible weight on his body from a belly grow larger than any human should have been capable of… and he felt empty.

For the first time since the night he had been selected he felt empty. 

And it was true because he had been fully drained.

Djeda signaled the Liberator and returning with his knife Inkaef replaced it in the wound he had created, blood smeared and throbbing from the pressure forced through it. 

“My prince,” Inkaef’s arm bulged with veins as he mustered all his strength but his eyes for the first time in years showed happiness. “My prince you are liberated from this mortal body. And your people feast on all the glory you have stored for them.”

Rahotep tried to say something, lost in his drunken haze of confusion and oddly sense completion.

And with every ounce of his power Inkaef the Liberator sliced open Rahotep the Belly God’s stomach. Guts and organs and whatever blood that hadn’t been freed already spilled free. The people reached skyward and caught the falling innards. 

To taste the juices of the Belly God conferred a generation of prosperity. To feast upon those guts that had stored those juices, was for confer prosperity to the next ten generations. The crowd greedily screamed and fought like jackals to have only a bit. 

And as Rahotep looked down on the crowd, for the first time he could see them. His belly that had long obscured all of creation that existed below it was gone. He was no longer a Belly God because his belly was finally empty… it hung open in the sun kissed air like drifting linens. 

He stayed like that for a long time. The potions he had been fed kept him alive longer than anyone who had suffered what he had should have been able. He watched as the crowds finished devouring his insides, as they licked and sucked his juices from their bodies. He watched as the setting sun framed the crowds as they began to disperse, off to a long night of celebration unlike the city had ever seen. 

“You are freed My Prince,” Inkaef stroked his cheek, the knife still held in his hand. “You are free to become a god.”

“Will you come with me?” Rahotep gasped, even if little air could fill his chest. 

“Where you go only the gods walk,” the Liberator leaned forward and kissed the Belly God’s lips one last time. “Where you go you will be reborn even fatter and fuller than ever before.”

But Rahotep had already passed on as Inkaef pressed his lips to his own. 

The priests dragged his body inside and went to their only gruesome duty of their otherwise pleasurable duties of the Temple of Hapi. 

He was laid upon his throne but instead of his mighty belly rising for all to see it instead hung open in his lap, an exploded melon that still dripped with his juices.

The priests now had a new role, that of butchers. 

They stripped the flesh from Rahotep’s belly, pealing it away and laying out its red marble as thick strips. 

While the crowd had enjoyed its juices and innards, the meat and flesh of the Belly God was considered the most holy. Only the temple priests and the royal family would taste it. 

The flesh that had once adorn the very point of his belly, the most strained and tortured muscles that had held until the last moment his titanic insides at bay, were stripped and sent to the palace where the Pharaoh and his remaining sons would enjoy them, to bring vitality to the rest of the dynasty. 

The fat that Rahotep had built up over the years was also carefully removed from his belly and from any other part of his form the priests could whittle their knives into. It was sent to the temple artisans, who would render it and turn it into the holiest of oils.

Oils that would only ever be used again to massage the great belly of the next Belly God on his final night. 

What remained after all that had been harvest could be was merely a shell. A shell that the entire ordeal Inkaef had stood watch over and ensured that even as the priests descended to do their job they were respectful to their former God.

A sentry that had stood until that shell had been laid upon the fire and burned to ash, and those ashes had been interred in the most venerated crypt in the temple. A jar that would be accompanied by the hundreds of others of Belly Gods that had come before Rahotep. And would be joined by the hundreds more to follow.

"You have done well my boy," Djeda said after the day was done and the stars shown bright in the night sky. "Now you role as Liberator is done you will be justly rewarded."

Inkaef turned to accept his reward and found the High Priest standing with a young woman.

"This is Princess Nofret," the man explained with a gesture at the stunning beauty beside him like she was some dull ornament. "The Pharaoh observed your knife skills and has chosen to reward you. His two older sons have been lost in wars far away and to ensure no chance of a succession war, he wishes for you to wed his only daughter of his first wife. Support her when she rises to Pharaoh and any sons she bears you will be in line to be rulers of all Egypt."

"I am most honored," though Inkaef knew to refuse this waif of a woman would mean great offense and certain death. 

And soon they wed, and Nofret, though not a woman of many words took the throne when her father passed of fever some months later. She ruled with great care and intelligence, though Inkaef found her slender frame too small and too weak for his hands to hold. Though only when she was not pregnant with his children. 

And life was good, until five harvests later when the High Priest of the Hapi appeared before the court and before Pharaoh Nofret. 

“Your highest,” the High Priest Djeda declared as he bowed deeply before his ruler and former Liberator, “the Cult of Hapi has come before you today as it has been five harvests since the last Liberation of the Belly God. It is time to select a new vessel of worship and growth.”

Inkaef knew his four sons by Nofret were in his eyes, though the Nofret would never part with her favoured sons. Instead eyes turned to his children from his concubines, his only son from them.

“Prince Rahotep II," Nofret said. "Come forward to meet your fate..."

And the cycle began all anew.


End file.
